Have You Seen The Big White Dog?
The Dog in the Hallways
The Big White Dog roams the hallways after hours, paws clicking on the concrete. Have you seen it? For the Big White Dog all spaces are empty. All spaces are ephemeral.
We are the presence of static.
We are crackle.
We are errant sound.
We are a signal that interferes.
Thehiss and fracture that lives between frequencies—are the material evidence of haunting energies: weak signals getting stronger, prior transmissions, and forgotten intentions embedded in the architecture. The Big White Dog is our guide.
Is This a Haunting?
The reflection of purple lighting.
The faint pressure of a subwoofer that once shook the walls.
KDZU reads these disturbances as critical hauntings, where the signal of the present is cross-contaminated by the ghosts of its own history. The Big White Dog is one such ghost—not a spectral apparition, but a residual presence, a form that persists through repetition, through the architecture's memory of what once was.
All Is Not Lost
A wallet on the ground. A single turned-inside-out mitten tucked into a chain-link fence. A paperback left on a bench. These things often go unnoticed—or if noticed, are quickly explained away. Someone must have dropped it, forgotten it, moved on. But sometimes, these objects are transmitting a signal.
"All Is Not Lost" is a series of KDZU's lost objects placed in everyday spaces. Each object contains a communique, a transmission, a request. It might be a to-do list. It might be the login credentials for a wifi network. It might be a map with a key card. These objects will look familiar, harmless, and boring. They pass under the radar of the uncurious. They sit quietly inside daily life, waiting—until someone, perhaps you, stops, examines, opens, shakes, and realizes they've picked up our signal.
Each layer of the building carries its own interference.
The dog is one such layer.
Have you seen it?
The Reef Investigation
In KDZU's investigation of The Reef, the building itself becomes a transmitter of hauntology. The static and crackle are not errors to be eliminated—they are critical evidence of how architecture remembers, how spaces carry forward the traces of what they once contained.
The Big White Dog is part of this investigation. It is the audible residue made visible, the errant signal given form. When you hear its paws clicking on concrete after hours, you are hearing the building's memory—the faint pressure of a speaker that once shook the walls, the reverb of studio air, the hum of old wiring, all condensed into a form that walks.
where the signal of the present
is cross-contaminated by the ghosts of its own history.
The dog doesn't haunt in the traditional sense. It haunts as static haunts as interruption, as evidence, as error. The clicking paws are the crackle between frequencies, the hiss that sits between signals, the form that manifests as the rememberings of architecture.
You've Seen It?
Our disruptions are intentional.
Consider how prior interventions,
past attempts, and past failures
are interleaved into our architecture.
Can you hear the clicking of paws on the cement floor? The Big White Dog is with us.
Listen for the static.
Listen for the ticking of the pipes.
Listen for the hum in the walls.
Listen for the bending in the structure.